Brotherhood Code
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Missing Scene for Can Opener. Crossover with Supernatural. MacGyver's long shot at a rescue brings Jack Dalton face to face with Dean Winchester.


The Brotherhood Code

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: This is a missing scene for MacGyver Episode: 7, Can Opener. I couldn't resist although so many writers have filled in this great episode. My version is a little different as it is a crossover with Supernatural, believe it or not. I kept thinking who on earth would be riding around on the back roads somewhere in Texas and just happen to see a blinking tail light and know beyond a shadow of a doubt it was Morse code? Well, the sons of a Marine of course. And Morse code is based in Latin, which most supernatural hunters know by heart…right? Winchester boys meet MacGyver.

RCJ

"Sammy." Dean Winchester reached across the seat and shook his younger brother's shoulder. They'd been driving through Texas for the last few hours, heading towards a small border town with what might be a werewolf problem. It was late, even for them and Sam had opted to catch some sleep after the last gas stop. "Wake up."

"Damn it, Dean," Sam groused, shoving Dean's hand away to try and curl his tall frame impossibly closer to the passenger door and out of his brother's reach. "For the last time we are not paying a visit to At the Boarder. Leave me alone."

"Dude, the name is On the Boarder. Show some respect." Dean shoved his brother again. It might have been harder than necessary considering he really had hoped for a willing accomplice in visiting his favorite Texas drinking establishment. "You have no idea the fun you're missing but that's not why I'm waking you up."

"Then what is so freakin' important that couldn't wait another couple of hours." Sam sat up with a huff, glaring at the older hunter driving. "I told you not to buy the Big Gulp."

"It's not my bladder, Buzz Kill."

"What then?" Sam asked around an angry wide yawn.

"Check out the car in front of us."

"Seriously?" Sam groaned. "You woke me up to point out a car? If this is another Trump bumper sticker or obscene license plate…"

"Just look at the damn car, Sam." Dean pointed to the vehicle in front of them. "We've been tailing it off and on for the last twenty minutes."

"It's a Sudan." Dean didn't need an interior light to know the frown that was on his brother's face. When they were kids Dean had made a habit of pointing out any cool car they might pass on their treks across the country with their dad, whether it was a sweet find like a cherry 65 Chevy or a sleek Mustang right off the show floor. Sam had liked the game when he was seven, but now not so much. "It's not even a nice Sudan."

"I didn't wake you up to point out the classic make and model, check out the taillights."

"If it will get me back to sleep any sooner…" Sam grumbled, leaning forward in his seat, his head tilting slightly as he regarded the car. "One of them is on the fritz. Maybe a short or something."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know," Sam turned to his brother, his hands floundering in frustration. "You're the mechanic in the family, Dean."

"And you're supposedly the smart guy," Dean rolled his eyes, pointing to the car again. "Watch the damn taillight again and tell me what you see."

Sam gave a great heaving sigh but did as Dean asked. It didn't take long until Sam's body language let Dean know his brother had seen what had caught his eye twenty miles back. "Well, that's weird."

"What's weird?" Dean asked, his grip tightening just a fraction on the steering wheel.

Sam looked at him. "If it didn't sound crazy, I'd say the taillight is blinking Morse code."

"When has something sounding crazy ever stopped us?" Dean flashed a half grin. "I think its Morse code, too."

"But, that can't be right…"

"Call Jack Dalton," Dean said.

"What?" Sam asked. "Who's Jack Dalton?"

"Now that's the ten thousand dollar question, isn't it?" Dean gestured to the car again. "It keeps repeating that phrase. There's a number, too."

Dean watched as Sam opened the glove box and dug through various fake I.D's to pull out a note pad and pen. He went back to watching the car, jotting down letters and numbers on the paper every so often.

"You're right." Sam looked at Dean. "Call Jack Dalton. 841-755-1264."

"Someone is in the trunk of that car." Dean forced his grip on the steering wheel to relax, to fall back in speed just enough to keep the other vehicle in sight but not make whoever was driving it nervous. "Someone in trouble."

"We don't know that for sure."

Dean turned to flash his brother what he hoped could be interpreted as his best 'give me a break, Sammy' glare even in the darkened interior of the car. "Because Uber now offers trunk shuttles to Mexico?"

Sam sighed. "What I mean is we don't know the situation, Dean."

"Call the freakin' number. Maybe Jack Dalton can enlighten us."

"I've got a better idea." Sam pulled his cell from his coat pocket. "I'm going to call Ethan."

"Okay, so maybe you are smarter than you look." Dean smirked at his brother. Ethan Mathews was a hunter of all things supernatural just like Sam and Dean, but he was also a police detective in Waco, Texas in his 'normal life'. Such friends came in handy, especially in moments just like this one. "He can run the number, maybe the name will give us some idea as to what or who we're dealing with."

The call was relatively brief after Sam finally convinced Ethan that they were indeed not yanking his chain about following a car signaling Morse code with one taillight, but Dean could tell from his brother's side of the conversation and the looks Sam kept flashing him that Ethan had come across something.

"Well?" Dean asked as soon as Sam ended the call.

"Ethan is going to have Jack Dalton call us back."

"Ethan knew the guy?" Dean asked. "You're kidding me. Talk about a small world, Dude."

"No, he didn't know him," Sam said. "But he found a file on him. His service record anyway."

"He's military?"

"Delta Force."

"As in Army Rangers, special forces, Delta Force?"

"Do you know another?"

"Great." Dean took another look at the car in front of them, wondering at what kind of Chuck Norris knock off might just pop out of the trunk if they sprung it. "If our kidnap victim is military that would explain the Morse code."

"It gets better." Sam kept looking at his phone. "Ethan tried to run Dalton's current assignment, hoping for some kind of insight into what's going on. The file was completely blacked out."

"Blacked out?"

Sam nodded. "There was a sentence about him being stateside, working for some sort of foundation, like an international think tank."

"Okay. Like private security?"

"As in Ethan didn't have a chance to find out. He'd barely started to dig when flags popped, the kind of flags way above a vice detective's pay grade and far over his security clearance."

Dean looked once more at the car in front of them. "That doesn't sound good."

"Oh, it's not good." Sam held his phone out a little as if it might bite him. "Ethan says you owe him a steak dinner, and not the cheap ass kind. He wants the kind Caleb springs for in Manhattan with the fancy beer."

"Is he okay?"

"For now, but the protocol that locked his computer was familiar to him. He ran into it once before when he was collaborating with the DEA and Border Patrol last year. Ethan thinks this Jack Dalton may be from The Farm."

Dean flicked his gaze to his brother. "I take it we're not talking Old McDonald's place."

"No," Sam shook his head. "More like Uncle Sam's Farm."

Dean returned his gaze to the road and the car with the blinking taillight, still going strong with the same messages as before. "So Jason Bourne is locked in that trunk?"

Sam was spared an answer by the ringing of his cell, which he quickly shoved at Dean. "You answer it."

"I'm driving here," Dean gestured to the car. "Safety and all."

"I've seen you drive, eat a piece of pie, scroll through the radio stations and give a full on recant of your latest conquest to your best buddy Caleb, all without using the hands free on your phone." Sam handed off the cell. "Put it on speaker."

"And what am I supposed to say to super spy Jack Dalton?"

"Ethan was going to provide a legit cover. We're from the San Antonio station, under deep working with US Customs and Border Patrol on a particularly nasty drug ring."

Dean looked at the phone which was indeed flashing the number that had been broadcast like a beacon from the car in front of them. He and Sam were masters at using aliases but bluffing with an actual government agency was a whole other ball game. "I hope to hell Ethan's story holds water."

"It's one of the back-ups he has in place." Sam nodded encouragingly. "Detectives Malloy and Reed."

Dean rolled his eyes at the Adam-12 references. At least Ethan had only used the last names of the main characters. He answered the phone and hit the speaker button. "Yeah."

" _Detective Malloy?"_

Dean glanced at his brother. "Jack Dalton?"

" _A Waco Detective gave me this number and said it was important I reach out to you. He said you and your partner had some intel I needed to hear. I wouldn't have bothered but for the fact you're in Texas. That interests me, but I've got to tell you this is not the best time and you better not be jerking me around."_

Dean could appreciate a no nonsense kind of approach. "My partner and I came upon a car about thirty minutes ago with what seems to have one hell of a smart taillight."

" _Excuse me?"_

Dean rushed on. "It seems to be signaling Morse code. The same message over and over. Call Jack Dalton. Then your number."

" _I'll be damned."_

Dean could hear Dalton talking to someone else, his tone urgent and commanding. Apparently the guy was used to giving orders. Dean cleared his throat. "So I'm guessing this has something to do with why our being in Texas interested you?"

" _My partner is somewhere in Texas, probably headed for Mexico. The Morse code deal is right up MacGyver's alley. He's nothing if not resourceful."_

"Your partner usually hitch a ride in trunks? I thought spies just stole awesome BMW's or police motorcycles." Sam punched Dean's arm, making a slashing sign across his throat. Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's disapproval of dark humor in a crisis.

" _This trip required some unique travel arrangements to say the least. I'm guessing my partner had to improvise and it didn't exactly work out in his favor. I'm afraid he may be in trouble."_

Dean smirked at Sam when Dalton seemed nonplussed by Dean's joke. "I'm guessing the guys driving aren't the friendly sort?"

" _Are you a Die Hard fan by any chance?"_

Dean snorted. "What guy with an ounce of Testosterone isn't?"

" _Then you'll understand me when I say one of those men in the car you're tailing makes General Ramon Esperanza from Die Hard 2 look like Mr. Rogers. He just escaped a maximum security federal prison where he was serving life. There's probably at least three to four of his militia with him. They are more than likely armed to the teeth and not afraid to take out anyone who gets in their way. At this point they have nothing to lose."_

Dean looked at Sam again. They had faced things very few people, even former Delta Force operators, could imagine; but they were not trained to take on crazed drug lords and their paid henchmen. "So you want us to hang back until back up arrives. I'm assuming back up is arriving."

" _I traced your call, pinged your location via satellite. I'm getting a bird in the air as we speak. My strike team is on its way."_

Dean looked at Sam who silently mouthed the words 'strike team'.

" _Look, Malloy, all I need for you to do is keep that car in sight. I don't know if my partner's cover is completely blown but I don't want to do anything that's going to compromise him further."_

Dean pretty much figured being thrown into a trunk and carted across the Mexican border against your will was about as compromised as a guy could get, but who was he to argue with a secret agent. "And what should we do if they make it to their destination before you get here."

" _How much fire power do you have on you?"_

"Including the cross bows and bowie knife…" Sam punched his brother again, hissing Dean's name in irritation. Dean glared at the other hunter. It wasn't like Dean was going to mention the salt rounds or Samurai sword. "Let's just say we weren't exactly expecting to throw down with the cartel tonight, Dude. We both have our regulation gear, a couple of back up pieces and some shot guns."

" _Any assault rifles? Kevlar? Maybe a grenade?"_

"What part of undercover do you not understand, Dalton?" Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly hating the feeling of being out of his element despite his first reaction of excitement at the possibility of taking part in an actual covert operation. "We're San Antonio Vice, not Crockett and Tubbs."

" _Right. Just stay as close as you can. They would have killed Mac back at the prison if a quick snuffing out was on their agenda. If they make it to El Nacho's hideout before we make it to you, call me back immediately."_

"El Nacho? You're kidding right?"

" _Nacho, Noche, It's all the same to me. If anything happens to my partner, he's dead either way."_

"Copy that." Dean had a feeling him and Jack Dalton might have a lot in common.

" _And Malloy, stay close to my guy. Do you understand me?"_

Dean recognized the unspoken threat. He'd been known to deliver them with precision and all the subtlety of a sledge hammer, too. "Don't worry, Dalton. I won't let them out of my sight."

" _Copy that."_

Dean cut the connection and handed the phone back to Sam.

"What are we going to do, Dean?"Sam asked. "The guy just said he was going to call in a strike team. We are not equipped to aid in a Black Hawk Down scenario. What happened to us keeping a low profile."

Dean glanced at his brother. They might not be a real cops or have served in the military like their father, but they'd gone to war, still waged battles against evil every day. The Winchesters, better than most, understood and embraced the loyalty and commonality between those trying to defend the innocent and make the world a better place. Dean knew they had even more in common with those who did so in the shadows, in secrecy, with little recognition if any for their efforts.

"Were going to do exactly what I said we'd do, Sammy. We're going to watch Jason Bourne's back until the Calvary arrives."

RCJ

Believe it or not, Jack Dalton was not one who enjoyed the last minute save. Whether it was a Hail Mary pass in the final seconds or a tie breaking three pointer at the buzzer, Jack preferred his teams have a safety cushion so to speak. Some drama in a ball game was fine and even a little nail biting kept a guy on his toes and the edge of his seat, but showing up just in time to see some piece of shit drug dealer aim a loaded gun at your partner's head with every intention of murdering him, is not the kind of exhilarating thrills Jack could handle.

He took his frustration out on the back of the guy's skull, using the butt of his rifle instead of a bullet only because he didn't have time to stop and aim. Finding Mac tied to the chair, looking worse than he had after the fight in the prison yard tempted Jack to turn around and fire a round into the unconscious man just on principle alone. Instead he made his way over to MacGyver.

"Hey, buddy. I got your message." Mac didn't look exactly with it. Jack forced a smile he didn't feel and fell back to old hat. Nothing like a good dose of teasing to rouse his partner. "You might need to brush up on your Morse code. Spelled my name wrong."

The attempt earned him a slightly dopey grin from Mac, but not much more.

"Geez, what the hell they been giving you?" Jack called in the reinforcements to start cleaning up the mess. He took the knife from his vest and quickly slit the Duct tape holding Mac's wrists. Jack expected his partner to get to his feet, to rebound like he typically did. When Mac continued to sit dumbfounded where he was, Jack's worry unfurled. "You look like you need a nap, Kid."

Mac gave a half-hearted laugh but still didn't speak. Jack knelt beside the chair. "Dude, you with me?"

Mac nodded, which did nothing to alleviate the panic Jack could feel trying to take encroach on his enforced calm. "Then maybe try using your words, because this whole not talking is starting to freak me out. Makes me worry El Nacho cut out your tongue."

"It's Noche," Mac said, taking a measured breath. The act which should have come natural seemed to take way too much concentration and energy on Mac's part for Jack's liking.

"And it's know it all comments like that which makes me tempted to take such measures myself." Jack reached up and rested two fingers against Mac's throat. The pulse he found was racing. Mac's skin was clammy and his pupils were dilated. "If they gave you some kind of drug I need to know."

Mac shook his head, took another painful breath. "No drugs."

Jack nodded, he let his hand rest at the base of Mac's neck, giving a gentle squeeze as he scanned the room. The Nitrogen canister caught his eye, a mask discarded on the floor beside it. Anger momentarily overshadowed concern as a clear picture of what had gone down started to take shape.

"How much of that stuff did you take in?" Mac probably had a fancy, big-word filled explanation of what inhaling pure Nitrogen did to a person, but Jack understood well enough. He knew that Nitrogen displaced oxygen causing asphyxiation, leading to dizziness and disorientation. That it didn't' take much to kill a person.

"Enough." Mac wheezed. "But not too much."

"That's not reassuring, Kid." Jack had never served in the Detention and Interrogation Program during his stint in the CIA, but he'd known guys who had. Nitrogen would make an excellent improvised waterboarding technique. He gave Mac's shoulder another squeeze, starting to stand. "I'm going to get the medic in here."

"No." Mac caught Jack's arm, latching onto his wrist. "I'm good. Really. Just need to catch my breath."

Jack took a little consolation in the fact his partner was speaking in somewhat coherent sentences now, but still…

"Jack." Mac gave him the look, one made more potent by the recent bruises on his face. "I just want to get out of here."

Jack's guilt kicked in and he conceded. He flipped his hand around gripping Mac's wrist so he could pull him up. "How about I just take you to them."

Mac shook his head, but seemed to think better of arguing. The fact he was struggling to get his legs to hold his weight and had to lean heavily on Jack for support was probably a factor in his atypical relenting. "How'd you find me?"

Jack shifted his rifle so he could keep one arm around Mac. "Actually we owe a debt to two undercover, off duty vice detectives from San Antonio."

"My long shot paid off." Mac's breathing had become easier the closer they got to the door. He actually smirked at Jack. "And I didn't spell your name wrong."

Jack shrugged. "Maybe the cops need to brush up on _their_ Morse code."

"I won't hold it against them."

"Me neither." Jack tightened his hold. "I don't think we would have found you if they hadn't called."

"Thanks for making it in time."

"Wish I'd been here sooner." Jack wasn't sure he deserved his partner's gratitude, considering the shape Mac was in. He would never have forgiven himself if he'd not been able to save Mac, as it was, the idea he'd been unable to spare his suffering was a bitter, jagged pill to swallow.

"Jack, I'm fine," Mac reiterated, pausing at the door. He pulled away from Jack's support, standing on his own as if to prove his point. He met Jack's gaze. "No harm, no foul. Mission accomplished."

Jack appreciated the effort and the words, even if he had to reach out and steady Mac who swayed precariously on his feet. He wouldn't exactly call Mac being tortured a successful mission, a least not from Jack's perspective of what his true mission would always be. "You're still letting the medic check you over. This wasn't some tussle with a bad guy or a bump or bruise from being tossed around by a distant bomb blast."

Mac rolled his eyes, which made him look younger than he already did. "If it will keep you from brooding the entire flight home, then I'll check in."

"You don't mind if I send an escort to be sure." Jack nodded to a soldier standing at the door, not wanting to leave Mac on his own just yet. "Make sure MacGyver gets a once over by the Band-Aid."

"Where are you going?" Mac caught Jack's arm again, his voice not as strong as before. There was a rare hint of fear or maybe dread in his blue gaze and Jack almost changed his mind about the request he'd made earlier.

"I have to take care of something really quick." Jack scanned the faces of the men working the perimeter, finding the person he was looking for, before flashing Mac a grin. "Don't worry, Buddy, I'll catch up before you get your lollipop for being a good boy during the exam."

The smartass comeback did the trick and Mac released his hold, the more typical look of annoyance and affection that he usually flashed Jack once more plastered on his face. "You're cute."

"All the inmates thought so." Jack winked, receiving another glare for his trouble. He nodded to the soldier who gently prompted Mac along. Jack watched them for a moment, making sure Mac was not bucking the assistance before moving toward the agent he'd tasked with locating Mac's very own walking, talking, long shot.

"Detective Malloy?" Jack approached the two men standing a few feet from the villa's entrance. Agent Canter was one of Thornton's operation's specialist overseer, meaning the guy was one pay grade above a bean counter and not exactly on Jack's or MacGyver's list of favorite people. Basically Canter was a tattle-tale, like internal affairs for Phoenix. He'd even kept up with Mac's supply of paperclips. Jack could tell from the disapproving scowl on his face he hadn't been pleased with bringing a civilian, even one with a badge, into a hot area.

"That would be me." The guy next to Canter gave Jack a raised brow and a little wave. "Agent Dalton? Or is that on the list of need to know information I don't need to know."

"I see Agent Canter has been keeping you entertained." Jack extended his hand. "Call me Jack."

"If by entertained you mean a very up close and personal search of my person and signing a stack of papers, which may or may not have included me handing over my first born if I ever speak of what went down here tonight, then yeah, your boy is a barrel of monkeys." Malloy shook Jack's hand with a firm grip. "I'm Dean."

"Nice to meet you face to face, Dean." Jack hitched his thumb at the other agent. "Go take a body count, Canter."

"Thornton will hear about this direct violation of procedure, Dalton," Canter informed them as he strode towards El Noche's villa.

"Nice guy. He made my partner stay on the other side of your invisible barricade." Dean nodded towards the perimeter line that had been set up around them. "You government boys sure know how to host a party."

"Canter is a stickler for procedure and protocol." Jack glanced in the direction Dean had pointed where a guy about Mac's age stood a head above everyone else. He was wearing a faded military jacket, torn jeans and sported long hair that was even further out of regulation than Mac's blond mop. The cop seemed more curious about all the hustle and bustle than irritated at having to hang back. He had the look of someone who could have worked with the old crew of 21 Jump Street. Dean on the other hand did not. "You don't look like Vice, Dude."

Dean shrugged, folded his arms over his chest. "You don't look like James Bond."

"Fair enough." Jack grinned. "But you should see me in a Tux."

"How's your partner?" Dean jerked his chin to where Jack could see Mac being taken care of by the medic they'd brought. "He looked pretty shaken up."

"Nothing like some good old fashioned torture to ruin a guy's day." Jack swallowed thickly, working hard to keep his easy grin in place as he could feel the rush of adrenaline faltering, cold reality setting in. Mac had almost died.

"You wasted the bastards."

It was more statement than question, voiced in a completely calm tone that had Jack giving Dean another once over. He shook his head. "Not this time. Standard protocol and all."

"Sometimes a guy just has to say screw protocol," Dean nodded to where some of Noche's men were now being led out in handcuffs. "They sure as hell weren't playing by the rules."

Jack met Dean's gaze. It seemed they had more in common than Jack would have first thought. "The thing about my partner is that he has this naive idea about keeping the killing to a minimum. Extreme force is not exactly his path, especially if there is another avenue offered."

Dean glanced over his shoulder again at the lanky kid now looking their way and then refocused on Jack. "That sounds painfully familiar."

"And Mac was mostly in one piece. He's a lot tougher than he looks." Jack had a feeling he could be honest with this guy. "If that hadn't been the case, Agent Canter would have had a whole hell of a lot more to write up in his report besides wasted paper clips and risks to security."

"I'm just glad it went down the way it did, at least the part where the kid was okay."

"Thanks to you. I'm not sure we would have located Mac in time and that's not something I want to spend too much time thinking about," Jack said, solemnly. "It's my job to watch out for him."

"I get that," Dean replied, just as reverently. "I have a partner, too."

Jack nodded. "Mac's more than work. He's family."

"There's nothing more important than family," Dean replied.

"Now that's a protocol I can get behind," Jack ran a hand over his hair, glancing once more to where Mac was still being tended to.

"It's The Brotherhood Code."

Jack returned his gaze to the detective, raised a brow. "The Brotherhood?"

"You know," Dean pulled back the edge of his leather jacket, flashing the shiny gold badge clipped on his belt, "The boys in blue."

"Right." Jack wasn't so sure he was getting the whole picture but at this point he was too grateful to Malloy, and in too much of a rush to check back in with Mac to ask anything further. "We good guys have to stick together."

"Damn straight, Bourne." Dean grinned. "The world needs all the super heroes it can get."

"You and your partner most definitely earned your capes as far as I'm concerned." Jack stuck out his hand again. "If you two ever need anything, and I mean anything, procedures and protocol be damned, you have my number."

Dean shook his hand. "I'll keep that in mind. Secret agent contacts are hard to come by."

Jack laughed. "Kind of like Kevlar and grenades."

"Now that you mention it, tell your resourceful partner our armory could use some upgrades." Dean rubbed his hands together. "Maybe a grenade launcher or two?"

Jack grinned, thinking about Agent Canter's reaction to just such a request. If nothing else torturing the pompous ass with a formal requisition might make Mac feel better. "You know what, Dean, I'm going to see what I can do."

The end for now...

But since I have opened this door, who knows what could happen next!


End file.
